S. Stirling - The Given Sacrifice

The sound the women-slaves all made was a thick gobbling, stammering through tears and moans. You could see why there weren’t any words when one suddenly screamed; her tongue had been trimmed and split. There was a hard stink in the air, manure and dried human waste.

Huon Liu started forward with a shocked exclamation, reaching for a flask from his saddlebags. Mathilda restrained him with a gentle gesture, her eyes the only things moving in a stony face.

“Slave-breeding farm,” Ingolf said grimly. “That guy the Rangers are guarding-look, you two, stop standing there with your thumbs up your asses and get that moron out of here before you have to hurt someone to stop them lynching him! Edain, get a detail to give them a hand, would you?”

Ingolf took a deep breath as a squad of the High King’s Archers attended to it, and went on to the monarchs:

“He’s the stud. Not really his fault, poor bastard, he’s just smart enough to know what to put where. They were breeding for stupid, for people just barely smart enough to do basic work and feed themselves.”

Rudi nodded soberly. He’d heard of this. Once you’d looked into the eyes of a High Seeker, it didn’t even seem very. . unexpected. Seeing it in person was different, though.

“I know,” he said. “And”-he touched the hilt of the Sword-“I’ve seen what this would end in, left unchecked. By themselves humans couldn’t do such a thing, if only because we can’t maintain a set purpose long enough.”

Though that vision of a possible future was so alien it didn’t have as much. . impact. . as this.

Mathilda crossed herself; for once she seemed at a loss. He could see where do we start? in her eyes. Lord Maugis was staring, blinking, looking away and then looking back. His area had been occupied for a while, but mostly by Boiseans in Martin Thurston’s service; the war there had been savage enough, but comprehensible. Young Mark Vogeler abruptly rode his horse around a wall and dismounted. They could hear him vomiting, then washing his mouth out from his canteen.

“What are your orders, Your Majesty?” Ingolf said formally.

He tactfully ignored his young kinsman when he returned, though a signaler wasn’t supposed to leave his commander’s side.

“We’ll have to care for these people,” Rudi said, taking out his dispatch pad. “Messenger! To Brigadier Nystrup, and would he please report here; and this to Lord Chancellor Ignatius, would he have the quartermasters attend to the matter of clothing and basic gear. Many of these ladies will be Nystrup’s people; he’ll want to see to identifying as many as he can. For the rest. . well, the Clan will take in any who wish, I think. Certainly if my mother has anything to do with it, and she will. There may be others who are willing.”

“The Sisters of Mercy,” Mathilda said. “I’ll. . I’ll talk to Father Ignatius. The Superior of their Mother House. . they have a unit with the medical train. . ”

“See to it, please, Matti,” Rudi said. “We’ll do what we can, but the first matter is to overthrow the ones who planned. . this.”

“Where are the children?” she said suddenly; there weren’t many, beyond some babes at the breast.

“You really don’t want to know, Matti,” Ingolf said softly. “Creches, most of them, but. . you don’t want to know.”

“By God. .” Maugis said, crossing himself with a hand that shook. “By God, I’d heard that the Cutters kept slaves, but. . is it all going to be like this , lord King?”

Rudi shook his head. “No. We’re close to their center, here. Elsewhere it’s bad, but on a more. . more human scale of wickedness. But it would have been all like this, in time.”

The baron’s face worked. “They’re. . they’re not human at all.”

Rudi felt his mouth twist wryly. There was a certain innocent vanity in that viewpoint, but he had to prevent it from spreading. The former Cutters would be his subjects too. He intended to see the headsman’s axe had some work, but a little of that went a long way. The Cutters. . former Cutters, they’d have to find a different term. . had to learn to live in peace with others. However, that implied just as much willingness in the other direction.

I cannot have a disgust with the folk of these lands persisting down the generations. That way would lay the groundwork for other wars-of less import to the Powers, perhaps, but just as deadly to humankind and our hopes and our homes.

He spoke carefully: “Alas, would that were so. The Power behind all this, yes, in a sense. But its instruments are all too human. At least most of them, and all of them to start with; and they are what they are because they’ve been mistaught, not because there’s any corruption in their blood, which is as ours. Do you understand me, Lord Maugis? For your own confessor will tell you the same-in somewhat different terms, but the same in the essence of it.”

The other man reluctantly nodded. “Yes. We’re all subject to Original Sin, that lets Satan whisper in our ears.”

Mathilda spoke: “Original Sin, as a wise man once said, is among the few dogmas which can be proven from experience.”

Rudi sighed agreement; occasionally Christians just had good points. Then he reined around.

“And now. . let’s go. Thank you, Ingolf. . Colonel Vogeler. I did need to see this, and not myself alone. I suggest men from each battalion be brought here. It’s a good thing to know why you’re far from home amongst angry strangers.”

“Yah.” Ingolf’s face lost a little of its pinched look, as if he was withdrawing his memory from a very bad place. “That’s a good idea. I’ll look up Oak, and Eric Larsson, and see to it.”

Another courier rode up as they cantered off. “Your Majesty!”

Rudi opened the dispatch. “Ah. Our blocking force caught the Cutters as they attempted to withdraw. Several thousand surrendered.”

Everyone looked baffled. “What blocking force would that be?” Lord Maugis asked, transparently glad to have something else to think about. “I didn’t think we could get troops much farther north.”

“It’s a case of. . how do you Christians put it. . bread upon the waters .”

• • •

“Major Graber,” Rudi said.

The former officer of the Sword of the Prophet dismounted and came forward with a brisk stride, a medium-tall man in his early middle years dressed in rough plainsman’s garb, looking as if rawhide had been wrapped around his bones and covered in weathered skin. The meeting was informal, but it still amounted to pacing between two rows of the High King’s Archers with the commanders and contingent leaders from the High King’s Host standing thickly behind them. Everyone who could had come flocking at the news.

There was a rattle and a small instinctive growl from the ranked Montivallan officers as he approached. Rudi smiled at it; just so did dogs growl at a stranger in their territory. Though Rick Three Bears was stone-faced and silent; Graber had personally threatened his clan when they sheltered the Questers. The silence itself was a concession, since it wasn’t in his people’s customs to forget such a thing.

The small group of Graber’s followers who followed behind him had a stiffness that spoke of nervousness.

Though in fact this is Graber’s territory, in a sense. And though Nystrup is looking pure murderous hate. Not that I blame him, but the needs of the Kingdom take precedence. Not to mention those of humankind, in the long run.

He turned his head slightly and murmured to the Mormon commander: “Why am I angry because of mine enemy? Awake, my soul! No longer droop in sin. Rejoice, O my heart, and give place no more for the enemy of my soul. Do not anger again because of mine enemies.”